


Believe That

by kayura_sanada



Series: For Good [11]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Aveline Is Working Through Some Shit, Consequences, Dragon Age Quest: Night Terrors, Duty vs Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Just All Of The Feelings, Learning to trust, M/M, Post-Night Terrors, Protective Fenris, So Is Fenris, Spirit Mage Hawke, Unresolved Feelings, Varric Is A Good Bro, Worried Fenris, You Got It You Got It Bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 05:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10269374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayura_sanada/pseuds/kayura_sanada
Summary: Fenris deals with the consequences of his actions in the Fade.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not hold it against Fenris, or even Aveline, in any way for their actions in the Fade, or even their responses to it. ...But Fenris would.

It had been like swimming in darkness. And yet he’d been perfectly aware of the decisions he’d made. They had been his. He could not pretend otherwise.

He had turned on Hawke. He had ignored the man’s warnings and had struck at him. Despite himself, he could still remember the feel of his greatsword cleaving through Hawke’s supple flesh. He remembered the spurt of blood, the sound of it. The sight. He could still see Hawke’s wide, disbelieving gaze. The cry of pain. Anders, the abomination more powerful in its natural territory than it was outside the Fade, raging in outrage as Azzan stumbled back, one shaking hand pressed ineffectually against the gushing blood.

Fenris had chased after him. Hawke hadn’t been able to find the chance to heal. He’d been left to dodge, his face contorted in agony as he moved, his blood running down his robes, staining his fingers, his palm, his arm. Hawke had struggled to block Fenris’ moves with his staff, barely managing to bring it up before Fenris knocked it away, throwing the man off-balance over and over again. Blood spewed after every movement. He could remember every ragged, choking gasp Hawke made. The sounds stabbed at his ears, even now, days after it had happened. He’d nearly killed the man before Anders – Anders, of all people – had saved Azzan from Fenris’ strength, healing him before Fenris could deal the finishing blow.

Of all people, the two mages, the very ones he’d accused of being able to easily succumb to the temptation of power, had been the ones left unspoiled. They’d had to desperately heal one another as Fenris charged at them, had been forced to redirect the attentions of their enemies as Fenris assisted a demon in its attempt to kill them.

Worse, perhaps, than the feel of skin parting beneath his swing – but no, no, nothing could be worse than that – had been Azzan’s pleas. Hawke had fought back the demon’s wraiths before turning his staff, finally, on Fenris. “Please, Fenris. I don’t want to do this,” he’d said, just as Fenris had heard when Hawke’s longer-standing friend, Aveline, had done the same. Fenris had been so pharisaical, openly condemning her at the time. “He’s manipulating you. You have to know you’re strong enough on your own – even if you were alone.”

Fenris had snarled at his words. “As if I can count on you. You can hardly stand against me.” He’d attacked again, and finally, Hawke stopped running away and fought back.

Fenris had always thought that, if a mage attacked him – if Hawke attacked him – then he would want them dead. But when he’d thought such things, he’d never thought he would be the one who sided with a demon. When he thought of Azzan finally attacking him, he felt nothing but breathless, overwhelming relief. What would have happened had Fenris won? Not only would Feynriel, the little fool, have been lost; not only would Fenris, a non-mage with power in his own right, fall to the clutches of a demon, but potentially Azzan, as well. Not due to any cruelty or weakness of his own, but due entirely to Fenris’.

The thought had only hit him when he’d awakened. Azzan’s magic, though carefully controlled to still be predominantly healing, either to ensure he didn’t fall to Fenris or because of the danger of using more offensive magic while in the Fade (something Anders had not feared, but as he was already an abomination, he hardly counted), finally took him down. The pride demon had remained, and Fenris remembered the initial fear that Azzan, injured and exhausted after his battle with Fenris, would still fall as Anders had to Fenris' blade. That fear was only compounded by Azzan’s face just before Fenris fell, the bared teeth and the squinted, almost pained expression as the mage apologized to him. As if Hawke had somehow been wrong to fight him. And then horror, finally, belated, as he realized just what he’d done. What more he could have done, if Hawke hadn’t stopped him.

Arianni and Keeper Marethari had knelt over him as soon as he’d opened his eyes. He had turned his face in shame. How could he admit that he had chosen to side with a demon? That he had willingly chosen, in the span of only moments, to become the very thing he despised? And, in doing so, had jeopardized the woman’s son, left with only two, perhaps even only one person to search for him? He’d turned his gaze to see Anders lying still, his eyes unopened, his breathing steady. Hawke had likely revived him, then. That was good. The man didn’t fight the demon alone.

Aveline stood against the far wall, arms crossed over her chest. Back then, during that trial, he had thought the woman lost inside herself, cursing her failure as he had.

The time spent waiting for Hawke to open his eyes had been some of the worst in memory. He had never feared the outcome of his battles before. They had always been at another’s behest, or in order to retain his life or freedom. Never before had he turned on an ally. Never before had he been the one clearly in the wrong.

Those tense minutes stretched. When Azzan finally opened his eyes, the relief was so profound it brought pain to his chest. He had gone to the man’s side, silently helping him stand before he spoke to Marethari and Arianni, telling them of his success. He couldn’t even allow himself to be upset that Hawke had sent Feynriel to Tevinter; after his actions, speaking of what the boy could become would be nothing more than hypocrisy. He’d almost missed how the guard captain kept her distance, her gaze steady and silent on Hawke as they completed their business and went on their way. He had assumed her pensiveness came from concern over how her actions would be viewed. He had felt the same, though Hawke had smiled softly at him when he’d helped the human to his feet.

Perhaps, if he had paid more attention to her, he might have reacted differently when she demanded his presence at the Keep.

* * *

The worst part of having a nightmare was knowing it had been caused, and delighted in, by a demon. Six days after the trip through the Fade, and he still found himself waking to the familiar feel of flesh beneath his sword, Danarius’ body growing slack, his eyes – suddenly a luminescent blue – filming over in death, until finally Azzan slid bonelessly to the ground. Fenris had awoken once more to the stain of blood on Azzan’s skin.

He worked himself into a sweat, panting as he trained in the main hall of the mansion. The rigor finally tired the angry chittering in his mind enough for him to rest. He stared at the walls, the gray slabs of stone, and let his breathing and heart slow. He sheathed his greatsword and shuddered. At least he hadn’t shoved his hand through Azzan’s chest. The very idea made his breath whistle through his teeth.

He needed a walk.

Of course, as his fortune always responded, it was just as he’d begun making his way through Hightown that one of Aveline’s guards hailed him as he passed. The man moved away from his post and motioned to him. “Guard Captain Aveline requires your presence.” The man nodded toward the Keep.

Of course Fenris’ first thought was of the mansion. Aveline must have finally gotten tired of his squatting. His mind raced as he tried to think of where to go. To his own displeasure, his mind actually conjured the picture of Hawke as he trailed behind the guardsman. Despite what Fenris had done, had nearly done, he was certain Azzan would happily put him up if he asked. The idea infuriated him. He didn’t want to be indebted to anyone, but of any, his last choice would be Hawke. He was too interested in the man – too close, too involved, too invested in him – to allow himself to be placed under the man’s hand, relying on him – there would be no freedom in that. He would merely be trading one form of control and power for another. Their relationship, whatever it was, did not deserve such treatment. And neither did Hawke.

That feeling was compounded, even as they made their way past Hawke’s home, by the conversation he’d had with Hawke after his betrayal in the Fade. The man had been too quick to forgive him, had created some weak excuse for him, about magic being played on his mind. It was an excuse Fenris would never accept from a mage, and even flimsier when used by Hawke. The man had little more patience for blood magic than Fenris himself; he would never use such an excuse for their actions. Fenris doubted the man would ever accept such an excuse for himself, if ever he lost control. So why say it at all? Simply to spare Fenris’ feelings? He was not the one who needed–

He didn’t want to think of that. Every time he did, he thought of the moment he’d turned his sword on Azzan. The feel of flesh parting beneath his downward swing. Those wide blue eyes. The dream, those wide eyes glossing over, gaze turning empty.

Finally they reached the Keep and stepped inside, and all eyes turned to him as the guardsman led him forward. He wondered if Aveline even realized what her actions looked like to the humans who frequented this building. If she knew she was making him out to be some sort of criminal. Which would be worse? The disguised warning, or the ignorance?

He glared at one human until the man lowered his gaze. Another sneered as he ascended the steps and followed the turn toward the steps that led to the garrison. A few guards looked up as they descended, then, on recognizing him, purposefully looked away and went on with their business.

His suspicions ratcheted up a notch.

He couldn’t help but notice that he was effectively surrounded. This area was defensible enough that he might not manage to escape before the guards took him down. Oddly enough, he thought again of Hawke. With Hawke, he would not only be able to escape, but likely take down every guard. Any injury he accrued would be healed, and Hawke would stay behind him, safely shielded by Fenris as they battled.

A ridiculous notion. If, for whatever reason, Fenris was to truly find himself at odds with Kirkwall’s defenders, pitting Azzan against them – especially since he was a mage – would be the last thing Fenris would want to do.

The guard knocked on Aveline’s door. Fenris waited, body carefully loose, but though the guard moved back to stand next to him, he made no aggressive moves. “Come on in,” Aveline said. The guard stepped back some more. Fenris followed the silent command and opened the door himself. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

The guard captain was busy looking through a sheaf of papers and didn’t even bother lifting her head as he entered. He waited, subtly checking the room. She flicked her gaze up after a few moments’ silence, then straightened and turned away from the papers without a second glance. “Fenris. That was rather fast, for you. I wasn’t expecting to see you for a few days.” Though the woman had a desk, he’d never seen her actually sit behind it. Always, she stood before it, just like now. “It’s a nice change, I must say.”

Fenris despised being beckoned. He despised being praised for allowing it even more. “What do you want?” he asked.

She frowned at his tone. “I wanted to speak with you about what happened the other day. Privately.”

He stiffened. Would she really attack him for failing Hawke when she had done the same? But why would she skirt around the subject? Why bring him down to the Keep instead of meeting with him in the mansion? “What of it?” he asked, giving away nothing.

She looked him up and down. Measuring him. “Something happened in there. To the both of us. And Maker knows what happened to Anders in there.” Fenris stayed still as Aveline walked up to him, breaching the careful distance he’d maintained since entering the room. “You know more about the dangers of mages than I, even though I married a templar.” The templar husband was news to him, but otherwise he didn’t respond. She eyed him for a moment, then sighed. “We’ll need to report them, I think. They’re dangerous.”

He stiffened. Everything in him rebelled. Hawke? Locked up? “Neither Hawke nor Anders,” he said, though he gritted his teeth at the latter’s name alone, “fell victim to those demons. We did. If anything, we should be locked away until it’s proven that neither of us is possessed any longer.”

Aveline paled. “But Hawke and Anders tested us. They said we were clean.”

“You trust them with that, but not with the creatures they searched for?” He scowled. “If you wish to prevent their loss of control, then you should also check your own.” He shifted, just slightly. Just enough that it would be easier to unsheathe his weapon. “Where did this come from?” Hawke had been the one to check him. Anders had checked Aveline. Perhaps the man had been as wrong in his prediction of her condition as he had been about his own.

Aveline’s brows furrowed low. Her lips pressed tight together. “You, of all people, should understand exactly where I’m coming from,” she said, and he tensed all over again. “Mages – all mages – face the temptation that we saw every day. I’m guard captain. I’ve dedicated my life to stopping criminals. And yet I – and you. You’ve been against mages and demons from the start. If we can fall to those creatures, what’s stopping them?”

It sounded so familiar. That was perhaps the worst part, that he recognized the words in himself. And he could still feel a large part of him agreeing with what she said. A larger, louder part, however, was furious. “I thought you cared about Hawke.”

“I do. But I’m a guard captain first. I know Hawke does what he can to help,” she said, holding up one hand before he could do more than open his mouth. “I’m not saying he’s some sort of mindless animal. But there has to be oversight. The templars are right about that. The two of them, both Anders and Hawke, they’re too powerful, too close to becoming something much worse.”

He agreed. He agreed, and yet – “I thought you were his oversight. You and the dwarf.”

Aveline ran a hand through her hair, nearly catching her fingers on her hairtie. “We were naïve. We didn’t know what we were doing. We’re not templars. We wouldn’t know he was a danger until it was too late.”

It was true. Everything she said resonated with truth. He hated every single word. “Why have you chosen to tell me this?”

She rested her hand on top of her sword. He tensed. “Because you understand. You were there. It’s not…” She hesitated. “It’s not as if I want him to be locked away, or to hurt Leandra.” It took a moment for Fenris to realize she spoke of Hawke’s mother. It made him late to react. “But the templars need to be notified. Mages face temptation so strong, it’s only a matter of time before they fall to it. Hawke won’t understand why we’re doing this.”

“Neither will I,” he said, his lips thin. His heart pounded in his chest. His fingers trembled, nearly begging to reach through her flesh to her organs. The guard captain looked far too surprised at his words. “Since you still haven’t answered why you contacted me, I can only assume it’s because you need vindication. Someone to agree with you so you can judge with exculpation. You chose the wrong man.”

Aveline sucked in a breath.

“What happened in the Fade falls on us,” he said. His hands clenched into fists. “Your fears are not against mages, but against your own weakness. You turned against your friend with hardly a thought, based on little more than a faulty argument and the face of your lost lover. I am not against mage oversight–” save against Hawke, for Fenris' sins “–but not for some witch hunt begun to channel one’s own guilt.” He lifted his chin. “Accept penance for your failure, as I have for mine. Deal with it however you must. But if you choose to stand against Hawke, know that you will have to go through me.”

Aveline stood nearly frozen, her hand trailing from her pommel to her desk as if to help maintain her balance. Fenris stood ready, brimming, almost begging for something, anything to work off the sudden fury. His body vibrated liked newly worked glass.

This woman was demanding mages be locked up and controlled. He liked the Circles. He hated mage freedom. He knew better than any in the South where it led. And he hated Anders to the deepest pits of the Fade. Of anyone, he, as the guard captain said, should have been the first to agree with her.

But not after Azzan. Not to him. Not now, and not here. The idea alone made him snarl.

He remembered Hawke’s words. “The demon was using magic on your mind. It’s as simple as that.” Yet the only person who had been in complete control had been Hawke. Even Anders had retained an integral hatred of demons. The experience had been an eye-opener. He knew nothing of the world mages lived in. They could choose to become monsters any minute of any day, yes – but that also meant that, over time, they learned how to resist such easy temptations. To become an abomination was a choice – a simple choice, one very easily made – but also one mages could learn to refuse.

What struck him, even now, was that neither demon even bothered trying to seduce Hawke. Was that because he’d killed the first who had tried before it could even speak its offer? Or was it because they already knew it wouldn’t work? The pride demon has cast its gaze upon him immediately. Was it merely because Fenris was the easiest target? Or would it have failed if it had tried to tempt Hawke as it had him?

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that, when a demon offered something to Hawke, he had killed it. When one had offered something to him, he had accepted. Who of the two of them deserved scorn?

Not Hawke. Hawke deserved to be free.

“You would actually stand against me in this?” Aveline asked, breaking the tense silence between them. She stepped away, finally moving behind her desk. She stared blankly down at the papers she’d been working through when he’d first arrived. Her fingers clenched. “I’m surprised at you.”

He bared his teeth. “So sorry my enslavement has not turned me into what you would prefer.”

Her fingers jerked. She didn’t look at him.

What a joke. These people were too used to being right simply because the law agreed with them. Aveline’s power was no different than that exercised by the lower nobility of Tevinter.

“Remember my warning,” he hissed, and turned away. He showed himself out.

* * *

Fenris hurried to the tavern.

It was midday, but the place was already nearly filled to capacity; it was the weekend, and everyone wanted to drink their money problems away. He darted through the crowds of tables, ignored a man who demanded Fenris fetch him a drink, ignored the waitress asking him if he wanted his usual. He rushed up the stairs and slammed into Varric’s room. The dwarf, to his credit, did little more than look up from the odd paper sculpture he was making and raise his brows. “Elf? There a reason you're–”

Fenris stormed up to the man before he could so much as finish his thought. He banged his hands on the man’s table. Varric’s sculpture popped apart. The dwarf scowled. “Our little guard captain is going to give Hawke up to the templars.”

Whatever Varric had been about to say, Fenris’ words cut him short. “What?” he asked.

Fenris snarled. His fingers curled onto the table, leaving long scrapes from his gauntlets. “Aveline,” he said slowly, “is going to give Hawke up to the templars. She called me to her office, thinking I would take her side.”

Varric looked at him askance. “And… you’re not?” The dwarf held up his hands when Fenris growled. “Hey, not to say I’m not happy to hear it. But, really? You?” Varric shook his head. “All right. I’ve known something was up since you guys came back from that stupid Alienage meeting a week ago. All right,” he said again, and rubbed his hands over his face. “Guess I’ll have to make a visit to the Keep, then.” The dwarf stood.

Fenris had no idea what the man thought his going there would accomplish, but he stood back, anyway. He knew the dwarf had far more power than he claimed. Hopefully, it would be enough to help Hawke. “What must I do?” he asked.

Varric showed him a sideways look. Something flitted over the man’s face, but Fenris couldn’t catalog it. “Keep Hawke occupied somehow. This isn’t gonna be pretty, and its best if he’s not around to see it.”

Fenris readily agreed. He wanted to fight something, to punch something in the face. But protecting Hawke from learning what Aveline had said was just as important. Fenris didn’t have Varric’s influence. There was little he could do if Aveline chose to go through with her threat, other than to protect Azzan.

And if she did go to the templars, and Varric wasn’t able to stop it? Then Fenris wanted to be there when they showed up, to help Hawke escape.

The idea should have sparked memories of the last time he had helped a mage escape a dangerous battlefield. It didn’t.

For Varric’s part, it was heartening to see the man take action so quickly. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Varric move like he moved then. He left his room, already calling out for a few men to join him. Fenris stayed back, not knowing if he should be even peripherally involved in such matters. Would it help to have a show of force behind the dwarf, or would it detract from his power?

He doubted he would be a great show of force at the moment, anyway, even if it would help Varric’s cause. His mind spun with what he was doing. All he could think was that he needed to go to Hawke, just in case things went south. So he did.

His return to Hightown was much slower than his descent. He kept his eyes peeled, carefully evaluating the guards on the street and along the sides of the roads. None seemed to care about his passing, but he didn’t lower his guard. All it would take was one, just one, to take his attention, his time away from getting back to Hawke. The man would never expect it; he wouldn’t dream of one of his friends betraying him. He would welcome Aveline inside his home, only to be dragged out, his magic pushed under tight control.

Fenris’ heart squeezed as if he was tightening his fingers around it. He walked faster.

By the time he made it to Hawke’s home, he’d worked himself into a panic. He banged madly at the door, slammed the side of his fist against the wood over and over, until finally he heard movement on the other side. “Calm down, then, calm down! I’m coming!” Bodahn. Fenris scooted a half-step back, just enough for the dwarf to inch open the door. He slammed his hand around the frame and wrenched it open, ignoring the merchant’s startled yelp. With one long stride, he moved past the man and into Hawke’s abode.

“Hawke!” he shouted, nearly vibrating as he made his way into the building. He caught a glimpse of Bodahn, the man following after him with short, staccato demands for an explanation. Sandal, the man’s son, stood in the corner of the room, watching him with wide eyes. The boy always seemed a little too fascinated with Fenris’ markings, and he strode past the odd dwarf, further into the room. Aegis watched him from the fireplace. Fenris turned to the hound. “Where is he?” he asked. The mabari barked and looked up toward Hawke’s chambers.

Fenris raced to them.

“What in Thedas is going on out here?” Hawke’s mother popped her head out of the library. Her gaze fixed on him, a frown marring her otherwise elegant face. “Fenris?”

She knew his name. It shouldn’t have been surprising. Hawke likely spoke with her about his goings-on. They were a family, after all. “My apologies, madam,” he said, though he didn’t pause for an instant. He took the steps three at a time.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, and before he could stop her, she started chasing after him.

He turned at the top of the stairs and watched the woman as she lifted her skirts and hurried after him, her fingers gripping the banister in case she tripped over the fabric. Despite himself, he went back and helped her up. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said, hoping he wasn’t lying to the woman. “But I need to see Hawke.”

She squinted at him. He had the distinct feeling she didn’t believe him. “All right,” she said, though she made no move to return to the library. “I’ll be here if either of you need me.”

He nodded and hurried forward, only to stop at the sound of her retreating back down the stairs. She would be here. Hawke wouldn’t want his mother around if the worst were to happen. He scowled and banged on Hawke’s door. “Hawke.”

He barely managed two knocks before the door opened, Hawke already in his robes, his free hand working at the belt on his waist. “Fenris. What’s wrong?”

The man thought he had a personal problem. Fine. That worked perfectly. “Come with me.” He didn’t wait for a response; if Hawke believed Fenris needed help, he would do whatever Fenris said. Unsurprisingly, when Fenris descended the steps, Hawke’s footsteps padded softly after him.

They left the house without engaging in further conversation. Hawke maintained Fenris’ silence as Fenris turned them both toward his place. It would be unoccupied save for them, lowering the chances of innocent bystanders getting in the way. And Fenris and Hawke knew its rooms and halls better than likely anyone save those who made the buildings themselves, since Fenris lived there and Hawke cleaned it. If there was to be any advantage, Fenris would take it.

Of course, he hadn’t planned on what he would say to Hawke once they arrived. He couldn’t tell the man Aveline planned to betray him. Not because it would hurt him – because yes, it would, but the man should know such things – but because Hawke had a horrible tendency of placing himself in the line of fire. If he knew what was happening, he would confront Aveline over it himself. And if he did, and Aveline was waiting for him? Hawke might be willing to take the chance, but Fenris wasn’t. They would wait for word from Varric. They wouldn’t act until then.

They both made their way inside, Fenris grabbing the door and wrenching it open. Hawke barely passed the threshold before Fenris began searching the rooms. Hawke followed after him, of course, pulling his staff out despite not knowing what danger Fenris searched for. How could he explain? What could he say? There was nothing to make his actions make any sort of sense. Finally, as they cleared the first floor and made their way to the second, Fenris growled. “I’ll explain this later,” he said. A part of him feared Azzan’s reaction. A ridiculous, tremulous part of him.

“All right,” Hawke said. And though the words were an echo of what the man's mother had said, the tone was completely different. Accepting.

Fenris shivered. He would not allow this man to have his freedom taken from him.

Once every room had been cleared, Fenris led them both back down to the kitchen. He’d thought of perhaps continuing his studies, keeping Hawke occupied enough that time would pass before the man realized he was being distracted. But that would leave the both of them vulnerable and unprepared if they were suddenly attacked. Without being able to focus on something, however, there was little else to do besides stand like fools staring at each other. Hawke didn’t help, either, just patiently waited for Fenris to get whatever it was out of his system.

Fenris rubbed his hands over his face. “I must look ridiculous.”

“Just worried,” Hawke said. Watching out for Fenris' pride as much as his health.

He felt the spring breeze of Hawke’s magic, could almost smell the fresh grass and flowering buds. He took a deep, fortifying breath. “You’ll just have to trust me on this,” he said. Stupid. He should have lied.

“All right,” Hawke said again. Perfectly easy.

Fenris closed his eyes as another shiver trembled up his spine. His heart raced. Perhaps one of the worst times to want to kiss a man was when he was in the middle of lying to him. If not then, then when they were preparing for a battle. Yet here he was.

Despite his own inner turmoil, Hawke radiated this calm, almost content atmosphere. His magic felt like the low ebb and flow of water. If Fenris didn’t know any better, he would say Hawke was perfectly content to stay exactly where he was for days.

He didn’t know how long they stood, but Hawke didn’t complain for a moment of it. When finally Fenris relaxed enough to lead them to the living room – ready to meet any enemy as soon as they dared breach the building – Hawke did little besides follow him. “Do you ever get tired?” Fenris asked, still feeling the effects of Hawke’s healing, keeping him from tensing and wasting his energy.

Hawke tilted his head as if he didn’t understand. Fenris’ question had come out of nowhere. “Yes?”

Fenris sighed. “Your magic. You’ve been using it since we entered.”

Hawke hummed. “Ah. Yes, it can get tiring. Especially when I first learned how to do it. But I’ve traveled for months now with Faith’s aura surrounding both myself and those who travel with me. A few hours is nothing.”

Nothing. That was the level of power Hawke had, that he could use the power of a spirit for days at a time without succumbing to exhaustion. His power was overwhelming. Fenris knew what that level of ability could do if it turned down the wrong path. And yet, when faced with the opportunity to quell that power, to contain it, he found himself recoiling in horror. What had become of him?

Someone knocked on the door. Fenris stiffened. Without a word, Hawke pulled his staff forward and placed it on the ground. Ready to create a glyph, Fenris surmised. He stepped forward and opened the door, carefully keeping it only inches ajar while maneuvering his body to its side. Let any aggressor bash themselves against the door, let them lose their balance as Fenris pulled out of the way and struck. But it was only Varric, and the dwarf met him with a bright grin. “I figured you’d holed up here when I didn’t find either of you at Hawke’s place.”

Fenris let go of the door, and the dwarf charged in like he owned the place. Hawke had relaxed at the sound of Varric’s voice, though something in his magic altered slightly against Fenris’ skin. He couldn’t name it, but it felt a little sadder. Less like that easy, flowing pulse of contentment that had thrummed between them moments before.

“Ah, Hawke. Good to see you in one piece. I’m happy to say our worries are over. For the time being. Not that I won’t be watching her. And you should probably stay away from her, too, for the time being. Bring the elf; he’s happy to join you on your little adventures.” Varric tipped a smile back at him. “Aren’t you, Plucky?”

Fenris scowled.

Hawke looked between the two of them, his brows lowering as he took in their conversation. “A woman was after you?” he asked. His tone made it clear he didn’t think that was what they were talking about.

“What? The elf didn’t tell you?” Varric frowned at him, then, a moment later, “oh, yeah. I guess that explains why you didn’t show up in her office. Anyway, Aveline had some problems after – after whatever it is you people did when you went to see that elven mom.”

“Arianni,” Azzan said. His voice fell to a hush. His eyes widened.

Hawke already knew, Fenris realized. His heart beat heavily in his chest. He wanted to go to the man. Hawke looked at him. He had already started putting the pieces together.

“That’s her name. Well, Aveline said some things. Made some threats. Things got a bit heated, actually. But apparently Elf here laid it on her a little thick, so all I had to do was clean-up. Good work, by the way.” Varric grinned at Fenris before moving over and patting Azzan’s shoulder. “She’s just working through some things, I think. You don’t need to worry.”

Azzan paled. “She was going to tell the templars about me.” The way he said it, the meaning was clear: _she was going to sell me out._

Fenris grimaced. This was something he could not help the man through. He could not resist the urge to stand beside the man, and though he did not touch, he was only a breath away.

Varric gripped Azzan’s arm tightly as the mage listed where he stood. “You know I’d love to not be the bearer of this kinda news, Marshmallow. I’m sorry.”

Hawke looked at Fenris. Fenris lifted his chin. “I know I should have told you, but I couldn’t have you running off to the Keep,” he said.

Something momentarily drowned out the pain in those deep blue eyes, sparkin them to life in a way that made Fenris’ breath catch. Hawke’s lips curved in a hesitant smile. “You were keeping me safe from her?”

His heart skittered. Why did it skitter? Didn’t it have anything better to do? “What exactly happened since I left, dwarf?” he asked, deliberately turning from Hawke. His heart hadn’t calmed in the slightest.

“Apparently, she was already having second thoughts. Nothing like having the epitome of mage hate jump your phobic ass to make you question your judgment.” Varric grinned at Fenris again. “By the time I arrived, she was already freaking out a little. In the end, I didn’t even have to blackmail her or anything. She just capitulated all on her own. Not that I trust that entirely, mind you. I want you to travel around with the elf for a bit, just to be sure.”

Hawke nodded. Shook his head. Nodded again. “I was always–” His gaze flickered to Fenris, then down. “I knew people knowing about me could bring – I just – I didn’t think…” He frowned. Fenris’ heart wrenched itself sharply to the side. If only it would calm down. “Thank you. Both of you. I wasn’t going to bring her with me, after – after. This is…” The man looked away. “Thank you for telling me.”

It was a dismissal if ever Fenris heard one. He didn’t want to leave the man alone, but Hawke was already making his way to the door, and Varric wasn’t trying to stop him. He hesitated. The line of Azzan’s back was strong, as always. But Fenris could no longer feel the warm comfort of Hawke’s magic, and he hurried after the man before he had a chance to think it through.

Azzan paused, but didn’t turn to him. Fenris couldn’t help but touch the man’s shoulder. Even through the robes, the heat of Hawke’s skin made Fenris’ mind blank. He had to let go or risk losing his mind completely. “You are not alone.”

He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t think those words could help when Hawke’s close friend, the very first person – according to Varric, if he could believe the man – to know of Hawke’s magic, threatened to turn him in to the templars. But it was all he had.

Hawke turned just enough for Fenris to catch a small smile. “Thank you, Fenris. I know this couldn’t have been easy for you.”

Fenris could only nod. He didn’t want to admit to Hawke just how torn he had been. But of course the man already knew.

Hawke left. Fenris watched him go with a heart still going mad inside his chest.

“Well,” Varric said, sidling up beside him. “This should make for an interesting few weeks.”

Fenris grimaced. He didn’t know how things would turn out, and that more than anything left him even more on edge. He wanted to hit something. Smash things. He took the next best option. “I’m going to get hammered.”

“That,” Varric said with feeling, “sounds like an excellent idea.”


End file.
